Ain't No Mountain High Enough
by silvanelf
Summary: Fill for a prompt from the kink meme. Peter is captured by an old mark out for vengeance. Naturally, his friends don't take kindly to the situation. Peter whump and perhaps a hint of Peter/Gamora.
1. In Which Peter is in Trouble

**A/N: Wow, it's been a while since I've written a fanfic, so I feel a bit out of practice. This is my first GotG fic, so I dearly hope everyone is in character, any feedback regarding characterization would be much appreciated.**

**I saw this prompt at the kink meme: **Peter gets separated from the group during a mission and is kidnapped by someone who actually has heard of Starlord and is not all that happy with his exploits. Maybe it's someone Peter once did a job for or maybe it's a Kree/Thanos/Ronan supporter. Either way, Peter is taken and gets the absolute shit beat out of him.

When the Guardians do eventually find him, he's beaten, bruised, bloody, and barely alive. And that's when shit really hits the fan because the Guardians are already kind of scary by themselves but once you mess with one of them, once you hurt one of them, they become completely terrifying.

+When the Guardians do find him, Peter is so delirious from pain/blood loss/injury that he thinks it's all a sick dream. Because there's no way they would really be here, right?

++For as gruff and scary as most of them are, the Guardians are actually surprisingly gentle when it comes to helping and caring for their injured friend

+++They take turns watching over Peter as he recovers and obviously the best way for everyone to get some sleep at night is to puppy pile on the bed and curl around Peter. You know, to keep him safe.

**I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort so of course I had to take a try at filling this. It might not match the prompt word for word, but I'm doing my best to stay true to what the OP wanted.**

**Just a couple more notes. I have a very busy schedule, so I can't promise regular updates, but I'm going to do my best to finish this story. I don't anticipate it being super long, but you never know what will happen when a story takes off.**

**Spoilers for the movie. This takes place some time afterwards, when Groot has had a chance to regrow back to his usual self.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own GotG, I desperately wish that I did, so I could hang out with Chris Pratt, but alas, it is not to be.**

**Please excuse any typos-I've read through this a billion times, but it seems some always escape me. If someone would like to beta, I would love you forever.**

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_One ~ In Which Peter is in Trouble_

His first thought, swimming hazily through his mind is that he's cold. The ground he's lying on is hard and unforgiving and he dimly realizes that wherever he is, it's not his ship, which brings him to his second somewhat clearer thought of, _Shit, Gamora's gonna kill me_. Everything hurts, his head is pounding like he had been drinking too much, and he feels a sharp pain radiating from his side—he must have a broken rib, because breathing is painful and jagged.

As he drifts closer to actual functioning consciousness, he realizes that it's not just cold, it's freezing, and he's shivering, and _fuck, where are my fingers? _He can't feel his hands, and with a surge of panic he opens his eyes.

He slams them shut at the excruciating brightness, _ohfuckohfuckohfuck, don'tpukedon'tpukedon'tpuke—_but his stomach is rolling and he can't stop it, and he's shivering and puking and gasping now, and it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts…_

He fades in and out for a while, just trying to breathe. He's not sure how much time passes, but when he finally comes back to himself the smell of vomit is still fresh. Groaning, he knows he has to open his eyes, he has to do something, he has to get out of wherever he is, get back to the Milano or anywhere but here and take a loooong, hot shower because _shitfuck it is so cold_ and that thought brings him back again to the realization that he can't feel his hands.

This time however, he slowly blinks his eyes open, letting them adjust. His stomach rolls again, but apparently he has nothing left to bring up. At first he can't see anything—it's just white blurs, but then slowly his surroundings start to take shape. There's a metal rack next to him, and a grey ceiling above him, with hooks and chains dangling down—everything's covered with a silver sheen of frost, and he can see his breath in front of him, with each ragged gasp that he takes. It takes him longer than he's proud of for him to realize that he's in some sort of meat-locker. His thoughts swirl with the knowledge—he can't recall how he got to be here. _Oh man, I am so dead_.

He looks for his hands and a rush of relief flows through him when he sees them, tightly bound in front of him. They're completely numb, and the tips of his fingers are bloodless, _gross_, but they're still there, they're still attached and really that's what matters.

He lays his head back, and tries to think of a plan, but the pain and the cold make it hard to focus on anything. He vainly tries to remember how he got in this situation, who took him, whether the others were with him, but it's a big frustrating blank. He doesn't even know if his friends are somewhere close by, or halfway across the galaxy, _dammit._

_Yeah,_ Peter sighed, _I am royally fucked._

* * *

Gamora is _not _worried, because Peter is fine—_he's fine, he-has-to-be. _So he was late, he had been late before, it was nothing to worry about. She knew she would find him at that seedy bar on the edge of town, probably a bit drunk, just having lost track of time. She would eviscerate him for being late, he would be sorry (_Oh my god Gamora, calm down! It was just a few drinks!)_, and they would head back to the Milano, and get off of this sorry excuse for a planet, cargo delivered and job complete. Except the small part of her that she was currently ignoring was whispering, _Peter has never been this late before…_

Drax was walking purposefully beside her to the left, and Rocket was perched on Groot's shoulder, the living tree matching her strides easily. Rocket was cursing under his breath, and Gamora resisted the urge to do the same—they had all been occupied with other things, none of them had realized how late Peter was until Groot had brought their attention to it with a particularly urgent, '_I am Groot_.' Gamora did not like the feeling that had come over her then. She was still unused to the idea of having friends, and the fear that tightened through her gut made her want to punch something—preferably Peter when she saw that he was fine.

They found the bar where Drax had last seen him, a semi-run down joint with a dusty sign—_The Black Hole_—hanging from the roof. ('_Do not worry, light and gravity remain inside.') _Without wasting any more time, Gamora strode through the door, the others falling in behind her—she was gonna _murder _Quill for making her experience this detestable emotion…

Her heart sank, and she sucked in a breath—the bar was in shambles. Broken glass was strewn across the floor, burn marks from Peter's blasters were on the walls, chairs and tables were tipped over and splintered, and the mirror behind the bar was cracked. The bartender was clearly in a daze, halfheartedly trying to sweep up the debris. Booze was dripping off the counter into a little puddle, and was that…_red blood…Peter's blood…_

She knew Peter wasn't there. Behind her, she heard the _ch-chink _of Rocket cocking his gun. The bartender looked up, face paling at the sight of them. She turned to look at the others, fury blazing in her eyes, "We are going to find him."

"Oh yes we are," Rocket growled, "I'm gonna make every asshole involved in this pay, and then when we find Quill, I'm gonna kill him."

"_I am Groot."_

"No, I am, I'm gonna kill that freaking idiot, and then I'm gonna throw his whatis-music thing out the airlock for good measure."

As Gamora strode through the mess towards the bartender, she agreed with Rocket. _She was going to murder that smart-mouth, moronic, dancing imbecile, and stars help whoever got in her way_.

To be continued...

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**Reviews/Feedback are/is Love!**


	2. In Which Rocket Wants to Shoot Something

**A/N: Oh my gosh, the response to this story has been completely overwhelming! I've never had so many alerts ever for a story—you all ROCK! *hugs readers* To those who left reviews, fav'd and followed, thank you so much! Seriously, I love you all. :D**

**To the guest reviewer who asked for more Peter/Gamora—we'll have to see. I'm not sure how much romance I want to incorporate into the story, it just depends on where the characters take me. (btw, what is their ship name? Gater? Petora? Or kinda my fav, Starmora?)**

**To the other guest who asked for the link to the prompt, search for guardian-kink at livejournal. The prompt is on the second page I believe. FF won't let me post the full link, sorry. **

**Well, your response was incredibly motivating, so here is the second chapter. Yikes, I hope it lives up to the first one. Again, I would love and appreciate any feedback. I find the Guardians to be a bit difficult to write at times.**

**This chapter is longer, because it will have to hold you all over until next week. I'm going out of town this weekend, to a lodge, to celebrate my Grandma's 100th birthday so it's going to be family time. I'll take a notebook with me, so I may be able to get some writing done, but I won't be able to post again until most likely Monday.**

**Please excuse/ignore any typos. If you spot one, could you please let me know so I can fix it? Enough notes, onto the story!**

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_Two ~ In Which Rocket Wants to Shoot Something_

Rocket was _pissed._ It was now two hours since Quill had gone missing and they still hadn't located their errant thief, nor had he been allowed to shoot the bartender. _Fat lot of help he was to Pete—Quill_—_when he needed it. Asshole._ What made it worse was that deep down, Rocket couldn't blame him for not getting involved. Hell, a few months ago, he would have done the same thing. But now with his new gig of being _respectable—ha!—_'n all, it made his blood boil that no one had been there to help their leader out when he needed it. Not one person in the bar had done anything. Did saving the galaxy mean nothing to those morons?

Gamora had gone straight to business with a ruthless efficiency that Rocket admired. With one quick flick, a knife had appeared in her hand, pressed up against the bartender's throat. "_Where is he?_"

Rocket could smell the man's fear, _good. _ "P-please, pleasedon'tkillme. I don't, I don't know where he is, _I swear!_" His voice rose to an unnatural squeak as Gamora leaned in, pressing the knife closer to his throat.

"You are going to tell me exactly what happened here, _now_, or my companions and I will pursue a different means of communication." The assassin's voice was hard as vibranium and Rocket supposed what the threat lacked in originality, it more than made up for it in delivery. He snarled at the man for good measure, and hefted his gun up onto his shoulder—the man read his message loud and clear. _Don't talk, and you're dead._

The words came tumbling out of the bartender's mouth, "I-I didn't know wh-what to do, it happened so fast. One minute, your friend was j-just sitting at the bar, the n-next, these three guys j-jumped him. He-he put up a good fight, but one, one of the attackers g-got behind him and slammed him real g-good in the h-head with the butt of a gun. They dra-dragged him out, okay? I had nu-nuthin at all to do with it."

A red haze had fallen over Rocket's eyes as the bartender talked, and by the end he was just a ball of rage and fur waiting to explode. "_I'll kill those assholes! Dirty, stinkin' cowards! I'm gonna rip their—_"

"Calm down Rocket, this isn't helping," Gamora shoot him a look. There was a tremor of cold fury in Gamora's tone, and something else Rocket couldn't quite place in his anger, _she can't be scared…_

"_Calm down?! Are you nuts?!"_ Stars, he needed to shoot something.

He felt Drax's hand on his head, "She is correct, small friend. Your anger does you no good here, we will wait to unleash it upon the foul barbarians who did this deed."

Rocket sucked in a large breath, "_Argh!" _He clenched his fingers through his fur, running them down his face, "Can I at least shoot something?"

"I am Groot." His best friend bent an arm down to him and he scrambled up to perch on the tree's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, save it for later. Where's the fun in that I ask?"

Gamora had turned her attention back to the bartender, "These men, who took our friend, what did they look like?"

The bartender swallowed, a bit more calm now that his imminent death didn't seem likely. "I, um, I'm not sure, but I think they were some of Staker's men—big, brutal, guys, who know how to fight, if you get my meanin'."

"I am Groot." The tone was puzzled.

"What my friend 'ere means to say," Rocket diligently translated, "is who is this 'Staker' person, and how can you possibly know those were his men?"

"Rony Staker, he's a, well, I guess you could call him a scientist. He works with a lot of chemicals, so his men always have a certain odor hanging about them—"

"Whaddya know? They actually are stinkin' cowards," Rocket was inordinately pleased with himself.

Drax gave him a confused look, "Is that not what you meant when you insulted them before?"

"Can we please get back to the topic at hand?" Gamora snapped. She turned back to the bartender, "Why would a scientist need those kind of men?"

The man shrugged, "A few years back Staker was double-crossed by some thief—stole a top-secret formula and sold it to his competition. Staker was humiliated, lost millions of units. He keeps the men around now for security."

It was suddenly, horribly, crystal-clear to Rocket what was going on. "Well, _shit._"

"Tell me where we can find this man," Gamora spoke quietly, but Rocket knew her well enough now, to know that she was just barely holding herself in check.

"Well that's just it, he could be at any one of numerous labs. I don't know where they took your friend, I'm sorry." The nervous look was creeping back into the bartender's face. He seemed to realize the mood had shifted back to life-threatening.

"Where is the closest location then," Gamora growled through gritted teeth, pulling the bartender up by the scruff of his collar.

"A f-few miles out of town, n-north. You can't miss it—b-but he wouldn't go there, that place has been abandoned."

Gamora released the bartender and turned away, heading quickly towards the door. "Come on, let's go save Quill." If her voice trembled just the faintest bit, no one said anything.

Rocket clung to Groot. He would never admit it out loud to the others, but fear was churning in his gut. He hoped, for everyone's sake, that when they found Quill, he was still alive. He didn't know what he would do if they found their leader dead, but he knew it sure as hell wouldn't be pretty. _Hang in there, Star-Lord. We're comin' for ya._

* * *

The sound of a chain rattling outside the door roused Peter from a semi-doze. He had tried to stay awake at first, but as time passed and no one came, it became more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. The cold had seeped into his very bones—he had dragged himself to a wall and curled in on himself, but there was no escaping it. Each shiver rattled through him, sending waves of pain through his chest. Broken ribs were a real bitch.

Now though, someone was finally here, maybe at last he could figure out what was going on—it was all just some big misunderstanding, it had to be…

He heard a lock fall away, and the door swung open. More light spilled into the room, but more importantly, a rush of warm air came through and he almost cried tears of joy at the feeling of it on his face.

A tall, thin man stepped into the freezer. He was dressed in a slightly rumpled suit, with a long coat on and pair of expensive leather gloves. Behind him entered two of the largest men Peter had ever seen. They were also dressed in suits and gloves, though a bit more rough 'n tumble than the first man. The one on the left had an enhanced eye, and the metal splintered out across his cheek like a spiderweb. Their faces were expressionless—Peter got a serious case of the heebie-jeebies just looking at them. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn't place him.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Star-Lord. It seems you've made quite a name for yourself since we last saw each other."

Dammit, Peter always hated it when someone obviously knew him, but he couldn't remember who they were. It only ever led to awkward conversations. He decided in this case, he could screw politeness.

"M'sorry, do I know you?" he slurred. _Damn cold, damn concussion._

He saw a flash of rage in the man's eyes. Apparently, he had said the wrong thing. He tried to backpedal, "Look, m'sorry, I meet a lot of people. An' 'n case you haven't noticed, m'not having my best day. Whatever I did, can't I jus' buy you a drink and offer a sincere, heartfelt apology?"

The man jerked his head to the left, and mook number one, Cyborg, as Peter mentally dubbed him, stepped forward and buried his fist in Peter's stomach.

_Ohgod, ohgod, oh fuck, ohgod…_White hot agony exploded across his tired senses. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream, he could only crumple forward, jerking and gasping, trying desperately to suck in air, _hurtshurtshurts, can't breathe…_Black spots danced across his vision, he was going to pass out…_please let me pass out…_

Instead with a choking '_hrap'_ he finally caught a breath. Sweet oxygen filled his lungs, and the bright heat of agony cooled a bit to 'still fucking painful,' but at least he hadn't vomited again, and that was always something to be grateful for.

The man was speaking again, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't remember me, after all, what's one person to someone like you? You destroyed my company, my reputation, my wife left me, I _lost everything_, but for you, it was just another day, wasn't it?"

Peter felt sick. It had been a while since he had done something as thoroughly asshole-ish as he had apparently done to this man. Sure, he hadn't meant to ever destroy anyone's life, but how often had he ever looked back to check the damage he left in his wake? He was a Ravager, stealing was in his nature—just now, he took more select jobs. How could he explain to this man that he was no longer that person? That he had changed? That he truly was fucking sorry, and not just because he was in a shiton of pain. He couldn't. He couldn't even remember who this guy was. Still, he had to try…

"Lis'n, I can see you're upset—'M'truly very sorry. Whatever I took, I can pay you back, okay?"

"Oh, you're going to pay me back all right. Nobody steals from Rony Staker and gets away with it."

_Staker…? Oh…oh shit._ The name clicked the memory into place and while Peter was a little relieved, because Staker had always been a genuine asshole, who he would rob again in a heartbeat, he was more than a little scared, because his memory also told him that Staker was one sick dude, and yeah, he was definitely screwed.

"Hoist him up."

Before Peter could even react, Cyborg and Creepy strode forward. A hook was pulled into place over Peter's head and the next thing he knew a chain was being strung through the ropes binding his hands. He knew what was coming next and tried to brace himself for it, but it was impossible. With a jerk, he was lifted up by the chain, left to dangle from the hook, and the pain is _everywhere_, it is everything, and he hears himself screaming. He can't breathe again, and it's _agony, agony, Gamora where are you? _

Blackness takes him.

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**Any feedback would be much appreciated! Are they still in character? (I hope so.) THANK YOU AGAIN to everyone who reviewed/fav'd/followed the first chapter. Y'all are incredible. *hugs***


	3. In Which Gamora Only Slightly Panics

**A/N: You readers just continue to be the absolute BEST! I came back from camping, and I had like 400 messages in my inbox. *jumps up and down like a crazy person* THANK YOU SO MUCH! You all make me so inspired and excited to write, just thank you! **

**I really have no other notes than that, so onto the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed to let me know they're in character—it is super appreciated! I hope you enjoy chapter three, and please let me know if you spot any typos, so I can fix 'em. : )**

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_Three ~ In Which Gamora Only Slightly Panics_

_No, no, Hurts, hurts…wha…_His shoulders…_stop, please_…a searing flame was eating away at the darkness, drawing him up bit by agonizing bit**—**burning away at him, until his entire existence was a throbbing, shivering mess consuming his chest and shoulders. He was swaying slightly, body wracked with spasms, and it was still _so cold_ and yet his _shoulders were burning, no no no, stop, stop_ He felt like he was sinking—everything was swirling, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he was so _tired_…_Hurts, _"hurts…" he mumbled.

"Good."

The voice gave him something to focus on, however barely, and he opened his eyes. _Oh…right… being tortured… _Peter groaned as the memories of the past few hours came rushing back to him—_Staker stringing him up, like he was some dead animal…_

With effort, he glanced around at his surroundings—_yup…still stuck…in this fucking freezer—_Staker was standing in front of him, a pleased smirk upon his face. Peter couldn't see Cyborg or Creepy, but with his luck, he doubted they were gone for good.

Staker smiled at him, revealing white gleaming teeth, and Peter couldn't tell if the shiver that went through him was due to the unrelenting pain that was shooting up his chest, or due to the look in Staker's eyes. "Nice to have you back with us, _Star-Lord_. After all, we can't start the real fun without you."

"K-Kinky," he gasped.

He was rewarded with a backhand to his face. His head snapped back from the force, and he felt blood fill his mouth. _Gamora, Rocket…Drax…Groot…anytime now…_ As he struggled to catch a breath, he saw Staker give a nod behind him…_no, no no…_

He felt a fist smash into his side—Cyborg and Creepy hadn't left, just relocated to where he couldn't see them. Blow after blow rained down upon his body, sending him swinging, jerking in agony, the tips of his boots scraping against the floor and he just wants down, he just wants to _die_, his body is burning and freezing, _he wants his mom, _and finally he's screaming, "_Stop, stop,_" but it doesn't stop, and for the first time he feels a genuine fear sink into him…he doesn't know how much longer he can take this…

His screams echo in the freezer, and he begs the universe, gods, anyone, to please just _end this_…_he's sorry, he's sorry, "m'sorry! m'sorry!" _He's so cold, tired, why can't they just leave him alone, why can't he just sleep? His head droops forward, blood dripping from his mouth, and then he laughs, or at least tries to, but it comes out as more of a strangled cough because now he knows he's dying—he must be hallucinating, because he hears someone calling his name, "_Peter, Peter!"_

With a great effort, he lifts his head back up, just in time to see the door of the freezer go flying backwards. It's hard to keep track of what happens next—everything is blurry, but he sees a flash of green, and red tattooed skin, and he thinks, _This can't be real…_the world around him is dulling to a disjointed haze of images…he thinks he hears gunfire, but he can also hear his own heart thundering in his chest as he gasps for air…and he thinks again, _Not real_…

Yet as he hovers over unconsciousness, he feels a familiar prickly grip lifting him up and then gently, gently lowering him down and the _relief _is so overwhelming that tears fall down his cheeks. His body is shaking and trembling—but he is cradled in something warm and hard and confusion sweeps through him_…_ He hears his name again, "_Peter!"_ and a blurry green form is hovering over him, but he can't respond and he slips under again, _gonna go to the place that's the best_…the darkness rushes up to finally embrace him, and he leaves the chaos and everything else behind.

* * *

It took them another hour to find the building. Gamora's emotions were stretched to their limits—she _hated_ this fear, this churning, choking vine that was clawing its way up from her stomach to slowly suffocate her. She was a warrior, an assassin—she did not _do _fear—Thanos had made her into the perfect killing machine, but it seemed like, as was often the case, the rules didn't apply to Peter. Every second that went by without him back safely, gave life to a hundred different worries and her gut twisted tighter with each one.

After a quick, but fiercely heated debate, they had hurried back to the Milano. ("_We can't waste time going back to the ship!" "Peter may need medical help, you idiot!" "The vessel would prove useful if someone has attempted to place a finger to his throat…" "I am Groot!") _In the end, they decided that using the Milano's scanners would help them find Peter faster and having the medical supplies close at hand certainly couldn't hurt either.

They set Groot to run the scan, while the rest of them loaded up on every weapon in their small, but deadly arsenal. Gamora ran her hand over the side of her blade—she would enjoy shoving it through Peter's captors. It took longer than she would have liked to confirm that yes, a half teran, half something ,was located in a building a few miles north of town. Grim faced, Rocket had flown the ship to a place a bit south of the building, behind a few scattered bunkers—they did not want to alert anyone that they were coming.

Now they had finally reached the lab, and nothing was going to stop her from getting inside and finding Peter. She spotted a few guards standing watch behind the windows, _so not as abandoned as it seems…_It didn't matter to her if there were five guards or five hundred, not anything would get in her way. Her reputation was well-earned, and tonight she would put her skills to good use.

Swiftly and silently she made her way forward to the entrance—darting between the shadows and trees, the others keeping pace with her, each in their own way. Rocket bounded through the underbrush, snarling quietly, Groot completely blended in with the forest, and Drax slipped into the shadows as easily as she did.

The door was locked. Drax took care of that for them. Gamora took care of the first two guards.

An alarm began to wail, a high-pitched shriek, and she heard the sound of people running. She smiled—the fear was gone. In its place was a solid foundation of rage and icy calm confidence. She swung her blade up, _I will find you Peter, _and stepped forward to deal death once more. _I will find you_.

* * *

"BLAM! Murdered you!" Rocket shouted gleefully, leaping forward and leaving the fallen body behind him without a second glance. He landed on the shoulders of another guard, biting and scratching , easily dodging the man's wild swings. With a feral grin he drove the butt of his gun into the man's head with an extremely satisfying _crack_, and the guard went down. Rocket was already moving on, guns blazing as he took down a defense robot. This place was definitely not abandoned, it was crawling with mooks, robots, and more guards, but Rocket and the others fought their way through them with barely a scratch.

It was crazy and it was what Rocket lived for. Give him a gun and a direction to shoot it and he was happy. The _brrrrrrrrk _of his gun was music to his ears—alarms wailing, people shouting, it was chaos, it was glorious—all his pent up anger finally able to come free. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gamora kick a man through a window. Groot was beside him, kicking and flinging guards around like they were annoying insects—which to Groot, they probably were. "_I AM GROOT!"_

Rocket scampered up the leg of another guard—his height sometimes hindered him in battle, but other times it was an advantage. Not too many people expected an attack from below. "BLAM! Murdered you!" So far, he was quite enjoying his new battle cry.

He scrambled through a door to the side, checking the room for Peter…no luck. _C'mon, c'mon, where are ya? _He hurried back out to the others, shouting, "Keep moving, he's not here!"

Drax came up behind him and scooped him up out of the way of a blaster shot, "We will find Quill and destroy all who stand in our way!" He ran headlong into the guards, an unstoppable force of fists and knives, slicing his way through the men like a thunderstorm. Rocket nimbly climbed up his arm and opened fire from his shoulder. "_Take this, you miserable cowards!_"

Together they cleaned out the hall, the last few guards dropping their weapons and fleeing. Rocket huffed with satisfaction, but they still hadn't located Quill—_If that asshole is dead when we find 'im, I'll kill him._

He was about to suggest they split up to go search for their missing leader, when Gamora held up a hand, her face paling, "_Listen."_

At first he didn't understand, but then his ears twitched as he caught the faint sound… _screaming…_

"This way!" Gamora took off at a sprint, Rocket clinging to Drax's shoulder as they followed. The sound of the screams ripped through his heart and for a brief, horrible moment he was back on that table, _held down, scalpels cutting into him over and over and he yells and cries but it never stops—_with a shudder Rocket forced the memory away. He needed to be here right now, he couldn't lose focus, because his, _yes dammit, his friend_ was in trouble, and he'd be damned if anyone or anything was going to stop him now. Together they raced down the halls, following the sound of the screams—_those bastards!_—hoping desperately they weren't too late.

* * *

The screams had stopped. Gamora didn't know what was worse, listening to each heartrending cry, or the silence, and _whatifhe'sdead, hecan'tbe. _Frantic, she practically flew down the hall towards a pair of double doors at the end. Peter's screams had seemed to come from behind them. A few guards spilled out the doors, raising guns, but with a shriek of rage she slammed into them, whirling and kicking, and they scattered before her, Rocket and the others picking off the ones she missed.

She skidded to a halt momentarily, taking in her surroundings, _whereishe?_ It was some sort of large workspace—there were tables scattered throughout, with old lab equipment, and a low hum vibrated from a large walk-in freezer, built into the back wall, _no no no. _ She ran forward, shouting, _"Peter! Peter!"_

She slammed against the door, but it's locked with some sort of keypad-she's not panicking, but she's close because _Peter is in there. _She turns to the others, but Groot is already taking care of the door. His arms stretch and grow, vines and branches creeping in under the cracks. With a wrench, he pulls the door off and hurtles it across the room.

A rush of cool air flows out, and then Gamora sees him. _No! _Time feels like it's slowed down and red descends upon her vision as she takes in the sight before her. Peter is hanging from a chain, blood dripping from his mouth. His shirt is torn, and she can see dark bruises starting to form, as he sways back and forth. He's barely conscious and as he lifts his head, she sees his eyes are glassy and dull. But what scares her the most, is that his face is far too pale, his lips are blue, and he's barely shivering anymore, just shuddering from the obvious amount of pain he's experiencing.

There are three men in the room, all with terrified expressions. She hears more guards enter the room behind her and says, calmly, quietly, "Rocket, take care of them would you?"

"With pleasure," the raccoon answered. In a second, the sound of gunfire erupts along with Rocket's angry yells and snarls.

She doesn't exactly remember what happened next. All she knows is red sweeps across her vision and when she comes back to herself, she's pulling her blade out of who she assumes is Staker—she's skewered him, and apparently cleaved the other man in two—his cybernetics are sparking and fritzing. Drax has pursued the third man out into the main room. She takes a deep breath, surprised to see her hands are shaking slightly. _It's over, you found him…_

Worry and relief battle within her when she sees that Groot has Peter in his arms. The tree's face is distressed, and he's making a low keening noise in the back of his throat. She hurries over to his side—now the fear is back, and it's choking her, but she gets out a strangled, "_Peter!" _She feels something wet trickle down her face and she reaches a hand up to her cheek, stunned to find she is crying. Peter looks up at her—she sees his lips move, but he can't get the words out. His eyes flutter and then slowly close, and _no, this isn't happening._ She sucks in a breath, and then another as panic grips her heart.

"_I am Groot._" A comforting branch curls around her shoulder. She looks up to see Groot gazing down at her, worry in his eyes, but also warmth and comfort. "I am Groot." He nods his head down towards Peter, and she follows his gaze, and she sees that Peter is still breathing. _He's still breathing, he's still alive. _

She gives a tearful smile at Groot, "Thank you," she whispers. The tree nods his head again, and stands, Peter still cradled in his arms, quiet and limp.

Gamora wiped the tears from her face, Peter was alive, but he obviously needed medical attention. She rose to her feet, the fear still there, but under control. She gave a nod in Groot's direction, "Come on, we're going home."

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**The response to this story has me so nervous every time I post a new chapter-I worry it won't be as good as the previous parts. I hope the action wasn't too confusing-I wanted to see everyone kick some butt (well, 'cept for Peter cuz he's getting whumped.) If you feel so inclined, I would, as always, deeply appreciate any reviews/feedback. **


	4. In Which Drax Uses Hidden Talents

**A/N: Oh my gosh, THANK YOU everyone who reviewed, fav'd and followed! I just can't say enough how much I love you all—you all keep me so inspired to keep writing. Thank you! *gives readers chocolate and hugs***

**Well, I did some research into the medical side of things, that said, please keep in mind that I'm not a doctor, and neither are the Guardians. Also, keep in mind that Peter, being half human, half ancient powerful alien is stronger than your average human.**

**Oh my gosh, I am really excited to see what you all think of this chapter—I hope everyone, especially Gamora, is in character. As always, please excuse any typos. :)**

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_Four ~ In Which Drax Uses Hidden Talents_

It was dark and quiet as they made their way through the forest back to the Milano. The alarm from the laboratory had finally faded away a few minutes ago. Gamora wished desperately that they had parked the ship closer—Peter needed medical help, and fast. She knew in reality, that the ship wasn't too far away, but every minute it took them to get back was a minute too long. Peter was bleeding, his arms looked dislocated, he was bruised, and he was slightly shivering in Groot's arms, still unconscious. There was a strange _ache_ in Gamora's heart when she looked at him, and there was a small tremble in her hands that she had not been able to banish. She found herself hoping that he would open his eyes—Peter would laugh at her for her worry, tell her he was fine, it was no big deal, just a few bruises—

Groot stopped moving, "_I am Groot!" _The tree kneeled down to the ground, expression anxious and a bit frantic as he laid Peter on a patch of fallen leaves. The others crowded around instantly, Rocket shouting, "Whaddya mean, he's not breathing?!"

_No,no,no,no_. For the first time in her life that she could remember, Gamora froze. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she could only watch Peter, _no,no,no_. Where a second ago he had been shivering, now he was still and pale. It wasn't real, _this isn't happening_. Peter was full of life and energy, always moving, singing, laughing, dancing—he was _not_ silent and unmoving, _dying…_

She watched, in a strange detached way, as Drax knelt by Peter's side, and felt for a pulse. "His heart does not beat." The warrior looked up at her, and Gamora saw worry in his eyes, "Are you trained in the ways of healing?" he asked.

"No…" Thanos had trained her to kill, not to heal.

"Come, I will show you what to do—we must hurry if he is to survive." Drax reached a hand out to her and pulled her down to Peter's side. "When I say, you must pinch his nose shut, and breath into his mouth, do you understand?"

Gamora nodded, "Yes," she had seen this done before, a few times, on various worlds and on various species.

Drax nodded, "Good. Give him two breaths when I say." He moved quickly, placing his hands on Peter's chest, and began compressions. Gamora's heart was pounding, _not breathing, no pulse…no, no, no—_

"Now," Drax paused, and Gamora leaned forward, closing off Peter's nose and placing her mouth over his. His skin was icy cold, and his lips felt cracked and dry against hers. She breathed in two breaths, _Please, Peter, please_. She could taste Peter's blood on her lips, and it was _wrong_—_  
_

Drax was giving compressions again. His blue eyes never left Peter, and his breaths came short and quick. Rocket was hovering nearby, pulling on his fur, tail swishing back and forth, back and forth, "C'mon Quill…you jerk…c'mon." Groot knelt by Peter's feet, dark eyes wide with sadness and concern. The tree reached out and gently placed a hand on Peter's foot, making the same low, keening noise from before.

Drax stopped, and nodded at Gamora, "Again."

She bent down and delivered another two breaths— nothing from Peter. _No,no,no,no…_

More compressions, more breaths. Nothing. Rocket was cursing loudly, "_Breathe, you moron!"_

Drax didn't slow, didn't stop. He pressed on Peter's chest, while growling low in his throat, "Quill, you will not die in such a dishonorable way," he looked up to Gamora, "Again, woman."

She bent and gave two breaths. When she pulled back, with still no response from Peter, something inside her broke. "No, no, no, _no,_" she didn't even realize she was speaking aloud. "You _asshole, you don't get to die!_" In a burst of anger she slapped Peter across his cheek, a tear spilling down her face.

With a sudden jerk, Peter sucked in a gasp of air. "_Peter!_" Gamora leaned forward and steadied him as he drew in shaky breaths, body trembling with shivers. Drax was smiling, and he clasped Peter on the shoulder, "Well done."

Rocket was hooting, jumping up and down, "Atta boy, Quill! I knew he'd pull through."

"I am Groot." The living tree was smiling, little vines curling around Peter's feet.

Gamora just stared down at where Peter lay wheezing in her arms. The sound of his breath was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. "I've got you," she whispered.

Drax rose, "We must continue on our way. Quill still requires aide—he is far too cold for my liking."

Groot stretched his arms forward and carefully lifted Peter from Gamora's embrace. He stood in one smooth motion, and looked at Drax, eyes blinking curiously, "I am Groot?"

"Yeah, where didja learn to do that?" Rocket translated. He climbed nimbly up Groot, keeping one eye on the forest around them and one eye on Peter as they all resumed their hurried pace back towards the Milano.

A shadow of grief passed across Drax's face. "My daughter was once playing near a stream, when she taken by surprise from a creature and fell. I pulled her from the water, but not quickly enough. Hovat and I could do nothing. It was only good fortune that a friend with us knew of this procedure and was able to save Kamaria. I swore that day that I would never allow such an event to happen again."

There was a moment of silence, before Gamora spoke, "I am sure that your wife and daughter would have been happy to know that you were able to save another with your knowledge."

"I think this as well." Drax gave a small, sad smile. "Quill's death would have greatly saddened me, for he is my friend. I do not like to see him this way."

Rocket's nose twitched, "You and me both," he grumbled. "I think I just lost a few years of my life back there."

"I do not understand. How have you misplaced a unit of time in this forest?"

Rocket rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth, but was cut off by a groan from Peter. Gamora looked over as the raccoon scrambled down Groot's arm, coming to a stop near Peter's face. "Quill, Quill, you with us?" Gamora's heart lifted with hope, but then sank as there was no response from Peter. His shivering was increasing, and when Rocket placed a paw on his face he drew it back, "He's really cold. How far are we from the Milano?"

"It should be just through these trees here up ahead," Gamora answered. Sure enough, she soon caught the gleam of the Milano's blue and orange under the moonlight. She nearly stumbled in her relief, "This way," she called to the others.

They quickly covered the last of the distance to the ship. The airlock door opened with a sharp hiss, and they were inside, rushing to clear the table and lay Peter down. "Rocket, can you get us out of here? Find a hospital," Gamora barked.

"Yeah, I'm on it," Rocket answered, scurrying up the ladder to the cockpit. Gamora didn't see, her eyes were fixed on Peter. He was shivering pretty violently now, and every few seconds a groan escaped him. "Drax, where's the scanner?"

"I have found it." Drax came to the table side, a rusty med-scanner in his hand. He ran it over Peter's shaking form, smacking it with his palm when the power shorted out for a moment.

"We are buying new medical supplies first thing after this," Gamora said. She was appalled at the scanner, _how did Peter even live before he met us?_

"I agree. This is barely acceptable."

"I am Groot." The tree nodded his head, holding onto a wall with one of his hands as the Milano powered up and took off.

Gamora looked at the scan results with Drax—it was not good. _Oh Peter…_He had a concussion and two broken ribs, both his shoulders were dislocated from being forced to hold his weight while he was strung up and the scan indicated he was suffering from moderate hypothermia. Gamora wished she hadn't killed Staker so quickly—he had not deserved a fast death after what he had done to Peter.

But that was in the past—Staker was dead, he would never touch Peter again. She took a deep breath, and let it out, releasing her anger as she did. She needed to focus, she needed to be here for her friend… "What do we do?" she asked.

"I have experience with dislocations," Drax answered. "In battle, rarely I will sometimes injure myself this way. If you can hold him steady, I will attempt to repair the damage. It will cause him great pain, and he may move—do not allow that."

Gamora nodded. She moved down to the foot of the bed, and grabbed Peter's legs, holding them firm. Groot spread his branches over Peter's chest after Drax tore off the last remnants of Peter's jacket and shirt—they were ready.

Drax began to carefully rotate Peter's left arm—the reaction from Peter was instantaneous. His head thrashed to the side, and his chest arched up, a cry escaping from his lips. "Hold him still," Drax snapped.

Gamora put her full weight down on his legs, keeping him from moving. "It's all right, Peter," she spoke to him, "You're with friends, you're on the Milano." She didn't know if he could hear her, but the sound of her voice seemed to calm him somewhat. He let out a long groan as Drax popped his shoulder joint back into place.

Drax eyed her, "Continue speaking. Your voice appears to help him in some strange way." He began to manipulate the other shoulder.

Gamora kept up a running stream of comments as Peter tossed his head again, "It's almost finished Peter, just hang on. We've got you, you're safe now…" The right shoulder slipped back into place, and Peter let out a cry, but instantly Gamora could see some of the tension leave his body. She and Drax, as best they could, bound his shoulders, and his ribs. She tried not to look at the dark bruises that were scattered across his torso, but it was impossible to avoid the sight. He was still icy cold to the touch, and though his lips were no longer blue, he was still far too pale. Gamora was worried, she wasn't sure how to treat hypothermia, shouldn't they be covering Peter with blankets or something…?

She voiced the thought to Drax, and he shook his head, frowning, "His device says to warm him gradually—I am not sure how to do this."

Rocket spoke and Gamora jumped, she had not realized the raccoon had come back below deck, "Whadda bout body heat? That should be gradual enough."

"I am Groot."

"I wasn't talkin 'bout you, ya idiot."

"Rocket, how far are we from a hospital?" Gamora asked.

The raccoon scratched his ears, "A bout a day, maybe two, unfortunately. This planet is mostly forest, not much civilization out here."

Gamora nodded. She turned to Drax, who was surprisingly tenderly wiping the blood off Peter's face, but then again, he had been a father. "I will lie with him first, as he warms, you and Rocket will join us." It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that no one cracked a joke.

She climbed up on the table, and gathered Peter's shivering form into her arms. She wrapped her legs around his and pressed her face into his neck. "If you ever speak of this to me later, I will kill you," she said to the others. She began to carefully stroke the back of Peter's head, avoiding his wound. _I'm here. You're safe. _She heard Rocket climb back to the cockpit, and a few seconds later the lights dimmed below. She heard Drax moving about the room, putting away the bandages, organizing and cleaning.

"I am Groot." She felt a knobby branch rest on her shoulder, but she didn't turn away from Peter. Until he opened his eyes, she was not going to leave his side. After a moment of hesitation, she began to hum quietly under her breath, tossing in words that she remembered, "_ain't no mountain high enough…ain't no valley low enough…_" How did the song go? Something with water…right, "_ain't no river wide enough…to keep me from getting to you._"

She held Peter in her arms, humming and singing as he shivered and trembled, breath ragged against her skin. _I'm here, I've got you. You're safe. _She breathed a sigh of relief, _You're safe._

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**I hope you liked it! I start back at work tomorrow, so I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter posted, but it will hopefully be within this week. I deeply appreciate those of you who take time to review-it really helps keep me inspired! :)**


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